


Size You Up

by colazitron



Category: Union J (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh has big hands and George has small everything. It's a good combination, especially when you throw some body paint in the mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size You Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimmyarrowshigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/gifts).



They have a day off.

Josh doesn’t want to think of it as a _rare_ day off, because their days off aren’t all that rare yet. Sure, they’re busy on most days with recording and/or promo, but it’s not that bad yet. He makes a point of thinking about it as “yet”, trying to stay positive that it’ll change and such. He’ll probably want the free days back if and when it does change, but until then, Josh wants to have _rare_ days off instead of just days off.

Anyway, they have a day off and George has been buzzing about it since at least three days ago. It’s a little difficult to tell at times, what it is that George is buzzing about, since he’s usually jumping around and giggling and climbing people and demanding piggy back rides but Josh thinks he knows George well enough by now to recognise his general buzz and distinguish it from a so-what-brought-this-on buzz.

Plus, George doesn’t shut up about it.

Originally Josh had plans of his own for that day, meeting up with Jordan, who he’s seen even less since he moved out and in with George, but those got unexpectedly cancelled just a few hours ago. He should probably mind more than he does, but he’s actually looking forward to spending a day inside his own head, for once. Every now and then a bit of solitude helps replenish Josh’s tolerance for... people.

“You can come with me, if you want,” George offers, flicking off the overhead light and closing the bedroom door behind himself.

“Nah, that’s alright. Thanks though,” Josh says and scoots down into the sheets, pulling the blanket up. Usually they sleep in their own bedrooms, but every now and then one of them or both will get in a mood and not want to sleep alone and then they share.

“Alright,” George says and sets his glass of water down on the bedside table before turning the bedside lamp off as well and wriggling around until he’s comfortable. “You sure you want me to wake you tomorrow? You could sleep in.”

“Yeah,” Josh says. “Want to say good-bye.”

George snorts amusedly and reaches out a hand to trace the lines of Josh’s face in the dark. “You’re so soppy.”

“Yes,” Josh says, because he is and it’s only George. George enjoys teasing, but Josh doesn’t enjoy pretending and he likes to think of George’s teasing as affectionate. Case in point: George giggles a little and shuffles closer, his hand tilting Josh’s chin up a bit for a soft kiss.

“Good night,” he says with a little smile.

“Sleep well,” Josh replies. They’re both easy sleepers, so after a few minutes of the occasional yawn and rustle of the sheets, Josh hears George’s breath even out and before he’s even completely finished the thought and the smile that pulls at his cheeks he’s drifted off as well.

 

He wakes to an empty bed and a swooping feeling of rushed disappointment that maybe George hasn’t woken him up after all and is already gone for the day, before he recognises the sound of the shower in the en suite bathroom. With a relieved exhale, Josh rolls onto his back, a smile pulling at his lips. The bedroom door’s slightly ajar and when he looks around to take in his surroundings, he sees Oreo curled up between his and George's blankets. Oreo sighs a little in that adorable way that kittens do and Josh pulls one hand out from underneath the blankets to run it over his shiny black and white fur. He's still not entirely sure how he's going to have Oreo taken care of once they go on tour, but it's not an immediate worry yet and if worse comes to worse, he'll hire a cat sitter to come by once a day to feed him.

The shower turns off in the bathroom and Josh continues to run his hand through Oreo’s fur, staring right at and right through him. It’ll be at least another ten to fifteen minutes until George comes back out. It’s one of those perfect mornings. Nothing remarkable about it objectively speaking, but somehow he feels like the world’s his oyster today. Oreo purrs and Josh thinks of George in the bathroom and how he folds his lips into his mouth when he concentrates on rubbing body lotion into his skin. There’s a giddy laugh stuck in Josh’s chest and he buries his face in his sheets and duvet and feels ridiculous but also really, really happy.

Oreo gets fed up with the hand on his body after a while and trots out of the room, tail held high. Josh could of course use this as his cue to get up as well. Maybe make some breakfast. Or join George in the bathroom and brush away the taste the night has left in his mouth. He doesn’t particularly want to though, so he rolls onto his back again, closes his eyes and stretches his legs out, luxuriating in the feeling of the duvet and sheets dragging over his skin. He wants to stay in this moment, please.

Although, admittedly, the next one isn’t so bad either. The opening and closing of the bathroom door is followed by George’s soft steps and then the mattress dipping under his weight as he crawls up onto the bed to hover over Josh. Josh is helpless to his eyes opening, looking up at George’s smiling face with a smile of his own. George’s hair is still damp and a bit rumpled at the edges from the towel he undoubtedly rubbed over it. He smells fresh and clean and his skin is soft when he leans down to nudge his nose into Josh’s. Josh trails his own to the side a bit, over his cheek and when George lets out a small giggle, he knows he’s thinking of Oreo and how they’ve adapted far too many of his traits as well.

“Hi,” George says then, voice soft and rumble-y and still not entirely free from its morning gruff.

“Hi to you too,” Josh says back and tilts his head closer to George’s again, allowing him to capture his lips in a sweet, close-mouthed kiss.

“Shall I make breakfast then?” George asks when he releases Josh’s lips with a little smack.

“Would you?”

“Well, you’re not going to,” George teases. Josh would protest because he does too sometimes make breakfast, but George is right in that he’s not going to _now_ , so.

“Thank you,” he says instead and leans up to give George another kiss. George smiles into it and then pulls away, shuffling backwards off the bed and stretching his arms over his head so his spine cracks a bit. Josh should probably at least sit up, so he pushes himself up onto his forearms and considers it progress. George just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow and snorts at him.

“Well, join me, if you ever make it out of bed.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Josh says and scoots towards the edge of the bed, pushing the duvet off him while he does. George looks like he’s about to pat him on the head for a moment, but then just turns and - presumably - walks to the kitchen. Josh yawns his way into the bathroom and by the time he finds himself at their breakfast counter, he feels a little more awake. His teeth are clean and there’s no goop sticking in the corners of his eyes anymore at any rate.

“I’ve already had about three texts telling me to hurry up and I’ve not even left yet,” George says with a goofy smile and hands Josh a plate of toast.

“Well, they miss you,” Josh says. He’s not properly met all of the George’s brothers and sisters yet and he’s not even sure he’s got them worked out right in his head, but they feature in most of George’s anecdotes and it’s obvious that he’s quite fond of them.

“I know, aw. Aren’t they cute?” George coos and types out a text before reaching for his coffee.

“Don’t pretend you don’t miss them back,” Josh says with a little smirk and spreads raspberry jam on his toast while George pokes his tongue out at him.

“So, how are you going to spend the day then?” George asks and Josh hums a little in consideration.

“I don’t know yet. Be lazy. Watch a film, maybe. Go for a wander round the city. Eat take-away.”

“Sounds like a crazy day.”

“Well, we can’t all have a huge brood of siblings demanding our attention.”

“You wish you had my brood of siblings!” George says, with a hand held to his chest in mock offense.

“Hmm,” Josh says, pretending to consider. “No. I’d rather have you, so this arrangement works out well for me.”

George flushes and ducks his head and Josh grins to himself, pleased that it’s still so easy to get George flustered.

“You’re soppy.”

“So you keep saying.”

George finishes off his coffee and then gets up to get washed up and dressed and packed to go. Oreo runs after him, probably thinking there may be excitement to be had and Josh continues nibbling on his toast. There’s a sinking feeling that starts sprouting in his gut and he doesn’t like it one bit. He’s looked forward to today and up until just now the morning had been brilliant, but if there’s one thing Josh knows, it’s an upcoming mood. He hates those. Those stupid hours of feeling downtrodden for absolutely no bloody reason. He tries to psyche himself back up with thoughts of the quiet he’ll finally get and a full day of doing only what he wanted to, but instead he only feels worse.

 _Great_ , he thinks and heaves a deep sigh before getting up to take care of the dishes. He could load them in the dishwasher, but that seems a bit excessive for the two and a half plates they’ve used. It’s always a bit weird, loading the dishwasher, because he’s never sure when they’re going to use dishes again and he doesn’t want to run it for a measly breakfast set for two people.

Washing them by hand it is.

He gets a bit lost in it. The feeling of the almost too hot water and the soap making his skin pull tight are just as familiar as the ceramic in his hand and the litany of _don’t drop it_ in the back of his mind. He lets his hands take over and do the work for him, his head going a bit blank. By the time George comes bounding back, he’s dried the dishes and is setting George’s coffee mug back in the cupboard.

“Well, I’ll be going,” George says and Josh looks up and knows he shouldn’t have.

“Alright, you’re coming with me,” George says before Josh can do much more than blink.

“What? No, I’m fine. Go see your family,” Josh protests.

“I won’t let you mope around by yourself all day. You look miserable.”

“I’m not miserable!”

“You’re not fine either. So, go on. Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

“No, really, George-”

“Josh,” George says in that tone of voice he very rarely gets. “Get. Dressed. They’ve all been asking after you anyway. It’s time for a proper introduction probably.”

Josh doesn’t say anything in return, not even _thank you_ although he sort of wants to, and goes to get dressed and grab his wallet, key and phone. He pops his sunglasses on his face and, after a brief second of deliberation, grabs a jacket, because this is England in mid-summer and you really never know. It’s only once they’re in the car, with Matt Fincham berating Nick Grimshaw over one thing or another, that he does speak up.

“Thank you.”

George doesn’t say anything in reply, just shoots him a smile and gives his hand a little squeeze.

 

By the time they make it to George’s family’s house, Sara Cox has taken over on Radio One and it’s gotten quite a bit warmer. They’ve rolled the windows down and Josh may or may not have looked over at George’s fringe being blown about by the wind more times than strictly necessary. As soon as they step out of the car in George’s family’s driveway, the front door opens and there’s a little boy that comes up to about George’s hips running towards them and barrelling into George’s legs.

“Hi, Archie,” George says and lifts the boy up into his arms, little legs coming to clamp around his waist immediately, while little arms snake around his neck. Archie pushes his face into George’s neck and squeezes - a bit tightly if the over the top grimace George sends Josh is anything to go by.

“How’ve you been, Archie?” George asks, prompting Archie to loosen his hold and pull back so he can grin at his big brother.

“I got my bow in nursery!” Archie says proudly. George puts on an adequately impressed/surprised expression, while Josh has no idea what’s going on, so he just follows behind the duo in the direction of the house.

“Really? Wow! That’s amazing, Archie. You’re gonna have to show me. I won’t believe it until I see it with my very own two eyes!”

“I can do it! They don’t give you the bow if you can’t! Harriet taught me!”

“Did she now? Is she here?”

“No, she’s out with a friend, but dad says she has to be home later because you’re here,” Archie reports dutifully. George grimaces and Josh feels a twinge of sympathy. He’s pretty sure Callum would wish the pox on him if he had to stay home just for Josh. He’s just _Josh_ , after all. Not even a little bit as interesting as all the things he could be doing with his mates. The fact that he’s in a boyband that people actually know about this time around isn’t going to win him any brownie points with him any time soon either. That might be different for Harriet, but she’s probably not entirely thrilled by her dad’s order.

“Everyone else in the garden?” George asks.

“Yes! We’re doing finger paints!” Archie says excitedly and wiggles around in George’s arms until he sets him down so he can run to what Josh assumes is the garden.

“So that was Archie,” George turns to Josh to say. Josh can’t help let out a laugh.

“I figured,” he says.

“If we’re doing finger paints we should probably at least get our shirts off. I might still have some old swim clothes around somewhere? Or maybe Will does. D’you want me to look?”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Josh says and waves George off. “They wash out, right?”

“Should, yeah.”

“Well, then. Lead the way.”

Out in the back yard, the Shelley family are gathered under a large sunshade. Archie and his older brother are sitting around a box they use as a table and finger painting, while their sister sits a safe distance away with a book and a toddler is asleep in George’s step-mum’s lap. When they step outside, Archie looks up at them with a smile that turns into a curious frown as he spots Josh.

“Who are you?” he asks. “Are you in George’s band?”

“I am, yes,” Josh says. “I’m Josh.”

“I’m Archie,” Archie says back with a big smile. Smiles seem to be in the Shelley family genes.

“Hi, Archie.”

“Hi,” Archie says back and then goes back to his painting. His older brother and sister have looked up, but don’t say anything to him.

“Well, then,” George says. “This is Josh, everyone. Josh, you know Mary and my dad. That little one’s Spencer, the bookworm over there is Louisa and the last one’s Leo.”

“Hi, hello,” Josh says again and shakes Mary’s and George’s dad’s hands. George himself kisses them each on the cheek before sitting down in one of the empty chairs and patting the one next to him for Josh to sit down.

“Is Annabelle around?” George asks.

“No, she’s with her dad today,” Mary says and shifts Spencer around so she can shake out one of her arms.

“Harriet should be home for dinner though,” George’s dad says.

“You don’t have to make her come home, dad.”

“Nonsense. We don’t get to have family dinners much anymore, so when you’re here, that’s what we’re doing.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Archie asks, popping up by George’s elbow to hand him his painting, but staring around him at Josh.

“Is this for me?” George asks, before Josh can answer.

“Yes!” Archie says and lets George kiss his head, but waves at him impatiently to be quiet when he goes to say something, still staring curiously at Josh.

“Yes. My brother’s name is Callum and he’s thirteen and my sister’s name is Victoria. She’s almost eleven now.”

“Only two?”

“Yeah.”

“Weird,” Archie says, with a cute little frown on his face. George shoots Josh an apologetic smile, but Josh only laughs.

“Well, for me it’s weird that there’s so many of you,” he says.

“But it’s more fun when there’s more.”

“Is it?”

Archie nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Will you paint with me?”

“Josh doesn’t-” George starts, but Josh puts a hand on his arm and smiles at Archie.

“Sure.” Heeding George’s advice from earlier, Josh grabs the back of the neck of his t-shirt and pulls it up over his head before joining Archie in the grass and letting him instruct him on what to paint. Leo gives up on his pretence of being too cool to paint with his younger brother after the first few paintings and a half hour and several more paintings later George joins them as well, shortly before Archie and Leo decide painting on paper is too boring and _each other_ are far superior canvases. It’s only a minute or two until they’re shouting and chasing each around the garden then and when George dips a finger in the yellow tub and then demonstratively smears it over Josh’s cheek it is _on_. Josh grabs the tub closest to him - the blue one - and retaliates with a broad smear down from George’s collar bone to his pecs. George gasps in shock and when he reaches for the yellow paint, Josh jumps up and takes off down the garden.

From then on, it’s a blur of sunshine, grass and George’s unmistakable giggles mixed in with the occasional streak of cold paint down an arm or across his belly when Josh lets George catch up with him. (After all, where would the fun be if Josh simply outran him.)

“You’re cheating!” George shouts at him, but it’s chased by a giggle and he doesn’t look like he’s complaining at all.

“Am not!” Josh calls back. George is far more blue than Josh is yellow. “Not my fault you’re a slowpoke.”

George pokes out his tongue at him and then looks over to where Leo and Archie are watching them like they’re putting on a show just for them. Possibly, Josh thinks, they inadvertently are. Josh points a threatening finger at him.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Hey, Leo! Archie! D’you want to come help me get Josh?” he asks. Mary laughs where she’s still sat in her chair, while George’s dad has gone inside to get Spencer out of the heat and get started on dinner. Louisa seems to have left as well at some point. Leo and Archie though jump up like someone lit a fire under their bottoms and each grab a tub of colour, before turning on Josh.

“Now _that’s_ cheating!” Josh calls, but dutifully takes off for another round around the garden. His struggle against Leo and Archie is even more of a show than it was against George and he lets them sit on his arms and paint his chest with suns and flowers and trees, giggling happily because they’ve defeated him. George gleefully points out places they still haven’t painted yet and occasionally smiles at Josh with such a soppy expression he thinks George has really lost all right to ever call Josh out on his own soppiness again.

Once there’s no room on Josh’s skin left, Leo and Archie decide to move on to football.

“Do you know how to play?” Leo asks Josh doubtfully.

“Yeah, he’s quite good actually,” George answers for him. Leo still doesn’t look convinced.

“Better than you?” he asks. George grins in a way that completely goes over Leo’s head and ruffles his head.

“I think a bit better than me, yeah.”

Leo mulls it over and then nods like he’s reached a decision.

“Okay, you can play too.”

“Thank you,” Josh says, as sincerely as possible and lets his mind wander briefly and wistfully to when Callum still begged him to teach him footie practically every free minute he had. They do grow up so fast. Archie and Leo run off to fetch their football, but when Josh starts to get up from the ground, George splays a hand over his sternum and pushes him back down.

“Stay,” he says. Josh quirks an eyebrow and a smirk at him.

“Woof.”

George shoots him a look that tries to be unimpressed before he gets up and walks back over to the sunshade only to come back with his phone.

“Smile for the camera,” he says and before Josh can even react to it, he can hear the fake shutter sound going off. Only half a moment later, George is giggling at his phone.

“Oh, this is one for twitter,” he says.

“What? Come on,” Josh protests, pushing himself up. George turns away and types faster in response. When Josh winds his arms around him to make as if to grab for his phone, he lets out a surprised giggle, but only turns it around to show Josh the tweet he made from their account when he’s done.

_**@unionjworld:** Having a lovely day with the family and Joshie! Someone got mistaken for paper... Whoopsies! xx George pic.twitter.com/ALaivnslIK_

“George! Josh!” Archie calls, football at his feet and fists propped adorably on his hips.

“Well, we’re being called,” Josh says and steps away from George. “Best heed the summons.”

“Yeah.”

They spend the next two hours kicking a ball about with Archie and Leo. Or rather, after a little skirmish of the Shelley boys teaming up against Josh and subsequently realising that he really does know what he’s doing, it’s mostly Josh giving them tips and making them practice simple tricks. By the time they’re called inside to wash up for dinner, both young boys are beaming from ear to ear and hanging onto Josh’s every word.

“They like you more than me,” George pouts as they pick up the tubs of finger paint still left lying around in the grass.

“Yes, well...” Josh says and laughs at George’s outraged expression. When George makes to stalk off though, he forgets about the football still at his feet and stumbles, Josh grabbing his arm to stop his fall. There’s a moment where they’re both trying to get their bearings back together before Josh chuckles.

“And you’re usually so graceful.”

“Oh, shut up.”

George shakes off Josh’s arm and then leads him back inside and into the bathroom. They wash up as much as they can before going back for their t-shirts and then joining George’s family for dinner. The elusive Harriet shows up and even though she makes a valiant effort at looking terribly inconvenienced by having to be here, she sits with George and after about five minutes of sullenly quiet eating, starts chatting with him. Josh mostly hangs back and talks to Leo and Archie who alternately tell their father about how great Josh is at football and ask Josh for more stories of his football playing days. Dinner passes in a flurry of laughter and lovely home-cooked food and by the time they’re done with dinner and ready to pile back into the car, the sun is slowly inching down onto the horizon.

“Do come back soon,” Mary says when she hugs George and kisses his cheek.

“You know our schedule’s only going to get more hectic,” George says, but smiles like he’ll try anyway.

“I know, I know. We just miss you around here,” she says and then turns to Josh. “And you feel free to join him whenever. The boys adore you.”

“Thank you, Mary. They’re lovely boys.”

“Oh, aren’t you one of those too,” she says and pinches his cheek. George’s mortification is absolutely worth the slight shock Josh feels at the gesture.

“Well, don’t maul the boy if you want him to come back,” George’s father says with an amused snort and lays an arm around her shoulders.

“We really need to be on our way,” George says and after a final round of goodbyes, they find themselves back in the car. The drive back to London is a quietly happy one, with the radio on low and occasional chatter about George’s family or Josh’s own. All in all, Josh is really glad George made him come along. Back home they only slip out of their clothes, brush their teeth and wash their faces and then crawl underneath the covers. For a moment Josh isn’t even sure whose room they’re in, but the sheets are blue, so it must be George’s.

 

The next morning isn’t as pleasant. The weather’s still lovely, as is the company, but the mere fact that it’s George’s insistent alarm that pulls him out of what he’s almost certain was quite a nice dream puts a bit of a dampener on Josh’s mood. Getting up to do popstar things doesn’t make getting up all that much easier, sadly. Josh will never be a morning person. So it’s with a little less enthusiasm than the day before that he rolls over and watches George stretch. George has this habit of wiggling down the mattress so he can stretch his arms out above his head, making the sleeves of the t-shirt he sleeps in ride up a bit. It’s then, with the soft and even paler inside of George’s upper arms exposed, that Josh catches sight of a bit of finger paint they had apparently overlooked yesterday. It makes a smile flit over his face and he reaches out to brush his fingertips over the spots of paint.

They match. Sort of. Josh pulls his hand back and then wraps it around George’s arm in an imitation of how he’d steadied him yesterday, remembering how he’d dipped his fingers into the tubs of paint to carry them more easily just before. George for his part watches him line up his fingertips with the three blue, yellow and red spots sleepily.

“You’ve got tiny arms,” Josh says and then thinks he probably should’ve led with “good morning” or something like that. George rolls his eyes but doesn’t push Josh’s hand off or anything like that.

“You’ve got huge hands,” he says instead. It’s sort of true. Josh does have big hands. George isn’t far behind, but Josh’s are probably a bit bigger. And, well, between Josh’s hands and George’s arm the fingerprint spots are all on the inside of George’s arm, like Josh wrapped his fingers almost all the way around it.

George heaves a sigh and then sits up. For a split second Josh ponders tightening his hold on George’s arm so he can’t, but instead he lets his hand fall away and come to lie in the warm patch of the sheets where George was just a moment ago.

“Your turn for breakfast,” George says and only looks to Josh to see him nod before he scoots off the bed and traipses into his bathroom. They don’t exactly take turns with making breakfast, usually they just each help themselves to whatever they want. When one of them doesn’t quite feel like it though, or alternatively, feels a lot like making breakfast, they do it for each other. By the time Josh has straightened out the bed and opened the window to air out the room, George has just turned on the shower. _One of those mornings then,_ Josh thinks. Some mornings George - without noticing - moves at about half speed. It means Josh has more than enough time for his own shower and gets dressed and brushed and polished and breakfast done before George slumps down into his chair. Josh pinches the skin on the back of his hand playfully and counts it a success when George’s eyes light up a bit on a giggle.

“Hi,” he says. George rolls his eyes.

“Hi to you too.”

 

Josh doesn’t know it then, but that sort of sets the tone for the day. Josh pokes and prods and grabs at George and George either falls into his trademark giggle or retaliates. Jaymi rolls his eyes at them and JJ switches between looking slightly confused and joining them. Business as usual, really, Josh thinks.

Well, he does until Jaymi stops rolling his eyes at them a few days later and starts winking at Josh. He doesn’t really stop rolling his eyes entirely, admittedly, but he does it with a certain fondness now. Josh can only take about one and a half days of it before he confronts Jaymi about it because he just can’t work out what the winking is all about.

“Just you and George,” Jaymi says. “You constantly have your hands on him. ‘s like you’re having a little honeymoon phase or something. Did you ask his dad for his hand or something when you went down on the weekend?”

“What? No!” Josh splutters and feels his cheeks flush. “We’ve not even been together six months.”

“So? I knew I wanted to marry Olly a few weeks after we met.”

“Yeah, but you’re a lunatic,” Josh says and wills the red off his cheeks. It’s not that he thinks it’d be horrible, being married to George. He just doesn’t have any desire to get married yet. Besides that, it’s absolutely not the point here. “And I don’t have my hands all over him.”

“Yes, you do,” Jaymi says, clearly amused by Josh’s reaction. “It’s really cute.”

They get called into their next interview then and Jaymi leaves Josh to his thoughts with a grin and a pat to the shoulder. Whatever, Josh thinks, He’s not touching George that much. Only then of course he sort of automatically puts his hands on George’s hips and frog-marches them into the radio studio. So he likes touching... yeah, no, okay. He _doesn’t_ like touching people. He likes touching George. And George either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind, judging by the lack of complaints. If both of them like it, why lose sleep over it, Josh figures.

Of course that’s when he can’t stop noticing.

He _does_ touch George a lot. He’s almost always got a hand on his arm or hip to steer him places. Whenever they sit next to each other he automatically slips an arm around him. And he’s not just touching George, he’s _holding_ him. He wraps his hand around any part of him he can, really; usually his wrist to tug him around.

When they’re naked together he measures George’s entire body by the width of his palm and the length of his fingers. He can wrap his fingers around George’s ankles so that they make a ring with his thumb and slide it halfway up George’s calf. On his arms he gets almost all the way to his elbow. The way he can wrap George’s cock up in his hands without any trouble suddenly sends a new kind of thrill down his spine.

It’s possibly a little creepy, Josh thinks. He’s not usually this possessive.

“I’m not going anywhere,” George says when Josh looms above him in his bed on this particular evening, his hands wrapped around George’s forearms, pressing them into the sheets. Josh flushes and lets go of him, missing the smile around George’s lips that comes with the words. He sits back up instead of leaning down for a kiss like he’d been about to.

“No, I didn’t mean ‘stop’,” George complains and follows him up, looping his arms around Josh’s neck. Josh’s own hands follow up the line of George’s arms and come to rest with his fingers pressed into the soft inside of his upper arms. George brushes the tip of his nose against Josh’s and trails his lips over his skin.

“You’re just so tiny,” Josh says quietly into the skin of George’s jaw, trying to soothe any offense his words may cause with a gentle brush of his own lips.

“You’ve huge hands,” George says back, but pulls away a little to be able to look at Josh’s face. “D’you like it?”

Josh shrugs, suddenly terribly embarrassed. It’s not like he’s asking George to drink his piss or anything, but he never expected... he didn’t think... this whole things blindsided him as well, is what it is.

“Yeah,” he finally says, because at this point he might as well. “I like how you fit into my hands.”

George laughs softly at him and pulls him into a hug with the arms still wrapped around his neck. Josh in turn burrows into the space at the base of George’s neck and whines his embarrassment. George coos at him and squeezes him once.

“Joshie, you don’t need to be embarrassed. That has to be the soppiest kinky thing anyone has ever told me. In fact, I don’t think it even counts as a kinky thing, that’s how soppy it is.”

“You’re not...?” Josh tries to ask, but he struggles to fill the blank. He’s not entirely sure what he feared George would be. Emasculated? Weirded out?

“Angry? Because my boyfriend likes touching me? No, surprisingly, I’m not,” George says. “Josh, I like laughing at you because you’re an idiot and you don’t mind.”

“Cause you don’t mean it and I-” _love you_.

“Yeah, well, me too,” George says and gently pulls Josh away again to kiss his forehead. “Plus, I happen to like it when you touch me, so this isn’t exactly something to put up with.”

“Yeah?” Josh asks, trailing his hands down Josh’s arms.

“M-hm,” George says, his voice low and rumbly with the late hour, making it sound almost like a purr. He moves with Josh’s touches as well, demonstratively, determined to show that he really does like it.

“Good,” Josh says and finally does capture George’s lips in that promised kiss, laying him back down on the bed. And that’s that.

 

Or at least it is until they have their next day off and George leaves Josh after a hurried breakfast to do something wildly mysterious with Jaymi. Josh wouldn’t usually be intrigued, but George doesn’t stop grinning at him in that way that means he knows something Josh doesn’t. So now Josh can’t help wondering what has got George all excited. Waiting isn’t exactly something he’s good at, so when, three hours later, George texts to tell him Jaymi and he have decided to stay out for lunch and maybe a film, he decides that two can play this game.

_Alright! I’m meeting up with Jordan. Might get late. Don’t wait up! x_

_Don’t you dare, Joshua._

Josh grins at his phone and mentally shakes his head at the little thrill that spikes low in his belly. George is just as easy to play as he is, really, so he orders himself in some food and settles down in front of the TV, very pointedly doesn’t reach for his phone again and tries to pretend he’s not waiting. He’s about 75% convinced that George won’t go see a film, because they really are as bad as each other, but there’s that spark of pride in him that doesn’t want to let George win this... whatever it is and he knows George has that same spark in him as well. So really this could still go both ways.

A bit over an hour later though Josh hears keys and then the door open and close. He stays where he is and tries not to smile too much, pretending he’s not straining to listen to George’s footsteps as he walks through their apartment.

“I see you didn’t go out after all,” George says when he steps into the living room and Josh can’t resist turning around to him. George sets down a plastic bag that Josh pretends not to notice before walking around the sofa to stop in front of Josh.

“I see you didn’t go see a movie,” he says back and grabs for George’s hand when he comes to stand in front of him. George bumps his knee into Josh’s and Josh scoots back further on the sofa so George can climb into his lap, straddling him.

“You knew I wouldn’t,” George says.

“Well, so did you,” Josh says and then leans in to kiss the smugness off George’s face. George hums into it contently.

“Did you have a nice day?” Josh asks.

“Yeah, we had a great time. I always forget how funny Jaymi is.”

“He is.”

“Did you?”

“Did I?”

“Have a nice day, doofus.”

“Yeah, I did. Just chilled here, really. Take in all the quiet.”

“D’you want me to leave again?” George asks, making as if to pull away if only for the way Josh’s hand tightens around his and the other snakes around his waist.

“You know quite well I don’t,” he says and lets George chuckle at him. George scratches his blunt fingernails over the short hair at the base of Josh’s skull with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m glad you came back.” Josh decides to admit.

“I’m glad you waited,” George says and leans down for another kiss. Josh still remembers when this was new. When George was the first boy he’d kissed because he wanted to. How kissing George had felt nothing like kissing Jaymi when he’d been fourteen and scared and how relieved Josh was then. Kissing George still isn’t anything like what he remembers kissing Jaymi being like and of course George is still the only boy he wants to kiss. But kissing George now isn’t like kissing George for the first, the second, the tenth time was either. Not in a bad way. He still enjoys it. A lot. George still scritches his nails through Josh’s short hair and he still makes that delicious, impatient sound when Josh slows down too much. Kissing George is still just as much fun, it’s just also a lot more familiar. By now Josh knows what George’s favourite chewing gum tastes like on his tongue and that he’s not much of a fan of messy kisses but likes it when Josh holds him around the waist.

“Hi,” Josh says, when George pulls back a bit. George smiles and opens his eyes.

“Hi to you too,” he says. Josh gives him another short kiss.

“Can I know what you’re being so secretive about yet?” he asks. George grins like he’s won something - possibly he has - and pretends to think about it. When he’s taking too long Josh pinches the skin at his side lightly through his t-shirt.

“Oy!” George says, “Maybe I won’t tell you at all!”

Josh just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow and taps his fingertips against George’s ribs, watching his muscles jump and his face pull into a wide grin like a conditioned reflex.

“You wouldn’t dare,” George says but they both know that to prove a point Josh very much would dar. George lets Josh span both sides of his ribcage with his hands and waits for his head to tilt in that way that means ‘Well? What will it be?’ before he gives in.

“It’s meant for you anyway,” George says, as if this has been his plan all along and then gets up from Josh’s lap and the sofa to grab a nondescript plastic bag he’s dropped a few paces away earlier. With it in hand he settles back in Josh’s lap and for a moment he looks like he’s going to explain. Instead he reaches into the bag and pulls out a tub of... something. Josh can’t make out what it is without a closer look. George lets the plastic bag fall to the floor and Josh takes the tub to read the label.

_Edible water-soluble body paint - blue_

His heart kicks up a gear and heat prickles at the back of his neck.

“Oh,” he says and looks up at George a bit helplessly.

“I was thinking about what you said the other day; how you like that your hands look so big on me? And then I remembered when I woke up with your fingerprints on my arm when we came back from my dad’s that time and I thought. I thought with this you could leave more prints on me? If you wanted?”

Josh clutches the tub of paint a little harder and tries to calm his racing thoughts. _You could leave more prints on me._ Jesus.

“Are you sure?” he asks and then clears his throat when his voice comes out a little croaky.

“Of course I’m sure. Wouldn’t have spent money on it otherwise, would I?”

“It’s just,” Josh tries to explain. “It’s quite possessive, isn’t it?”

George frowns for a moment until his face smoothes out into a gentle smile. He lifts his hands to frame Josh’s face with them, letting his thumbs brush over Josh’s cheekbones.

“Josh. You’re mine. And I’m yours. I don’t mind if you’re a little possessive every now and then. Is that what’s been bugging you about this? They’re not tattoos. It’ll wash off,” he says, trying to coax a smile out of Josh. Josh takes a moment to just breathe and let the words sink in before speaking.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” George says. “I told you. I quite like it actually. Lets me see that you want to keep me.”

“I do want to keep you,” Josh says and settles one hand back on George’s hip, tucking his thumb up under his t-shirt to rest on the skin just above the waist band of his jeans. “Very much so.”

“Good,” George says and answers the upwards tilt of Josh’s chin with a kiss. George shuffles a bit closer to Josh and wraps his arms around his neck again, the tub of paint in Josh’s hand pressing lightly into both their bellies.

“Show me?” George pulls back to whisper against Josh’s lips. “How much you want to keep me?”

Josh exhales heavily and then pushes at George’s hip to get him to move back a little.

“Bedroom then,” he says. “Come on.”

George clambers off of Josh’s lap and takes his free hand to pull him along into the bedroom, only dropping it when Josh goes to put them on George’s lower back as he crowds in behind him. Josh can feel the heat of George’s skin in his fingertips even through the t-shirt and hopes that George can feel his as well. He pushes George towards his own bedroom because George still has the blue sheets on and Josh wants to see everywhere the colour touches even if it shouldn’t wash out.

He pushes the door closed behind himself and tosses the tub of paint onto the bed before he even hears the soft click of it before reaching back for the back of his t-shirt and pulling it off over his head. George mimics him and Josh is immediately tempted to put his hands on the revealed skin, see how much of it he can cover. Instead he reaches for George’s fly and undoes the buttons, stepping closer to George at the same time to nose at the soft skin between his ear and jaw. George squirms away from it like he always does and raises a hand to rub over it, chasing away the lingering sensation,

“You waffle,” he says, but there’s far too much fondness in it to be properly chastising. Josh presses his smirk along with a placating kiss to George’s cheek before hooking his fingers into George’s underwear and pushing them down along with his jeans.

“Get with the program,” Josh says and then steps back to make short work of his own remaining clothes. There’s probably no way to make taking off one’s socks sexy, but leaving them on is just not an option, so Josh lets George laugh at him when he almost loses his balance. He pays him back by crowding him back towards his bed, making George startle and fall down onto it. George doesn’t seem all that fazed, reaching out a hand to pull Josh down onto the bed as well. They come to a strange stalemate when they’re sitting cross-legged opposite each other with the tub of body paint between them.

“Well?” George says, gesturing towards it. Josh thinks this is possibly the strangest situation he’s ever been in, sex-wise. He reaches for the tub anyway and studies it for any kind of instructions. Store at room temperature, keep away from children, external use only, the usual stuff. Stir well before use. He looks up at George and shrugs.

“Stir well before use,” he says and pops open the lid, peeling back the plastic seal. George starts looking around for something to stir with, but Josh just reaches in with his finger and stirs. George giggles and Josh can’t help answering with a smile.

“What?” he says, “It’s _body paint_.”

He stirs until the clear liquid that had gathered on top is incorporated into the paint again and then wipes his finger on his own thigh.

“Thought that was meant for me,” George quips. Josh’s gaze jumps up to him at that and he lets the smile he can feel tugging at his lips spread over them slowly.

“It is,” he says and then dips all five fingertips of his right hand into the tub. For a moment he deliberates about where to touch, since it’ll be the first one, but then decides it doesn’t matter much and spreads his hand over the middle of George’s chest, stretching his fingers as far as they’ll go. He presses them to George’s skin and George’s breath hitches the tiniest bit.

“Cold,” he says. The paint’s not that cold, but Josh nods anyway and pulls his hand back. The span of his fingers from his thumb to his little finger is bigger than the distance between George’s nipples. George looks down and lets out a little giggle, while Josh is transfixed. Like this, with marks left behind, George seems even tinier compared to the scope of his hand.

“You do have huge hands.”

“You’re tiny.”

George pouts at him and then dabs his finger in the paint to draw a blue line down Josh’s cheek. Josh blinks at him and George lets out a giggle.

“You’ve blue on your cheek.”

“You’ve blue on your chest,” Josh says back and then wraps his hand around George’s wrist, the resulting thumb print and fingerprints overlapping, because George’s wrists are smaller than the ring of Josh’s fingers. Josh dips his fingers back into the paint and then overlaps his fingers carefully with the prints he’s already left before dragging them up George’s arms, five lines gently sloping outwards with the curve of George’s arm, the blue growing fainter the further up the lines go. Josh dips his hand in the paint again and draws the lines up all the way to George’s shoulder. George stays quiet and watches the blue lines wind their way up his arm, but when Josh is done and pauses, a cheeky smile blooms on his face again and he dips his finger back into the paint before smearing it on his lips and ducking his head to leave a trail of blue kiss marks down the middle of Josh's chest. Josh watches him and chuckles fondly.

"I blue'd you," George proclaims proudly, lips stained blue and eyes sparkling. There's a second or two of silence before they both burst into laughter. Then George leans in and kisses Josh's cheek, leaving a faint smudge of blue and whispers,

"Want me to blow you with my blue lips?"

George can feel Josh's face move against his, probably in a smile, and then Josh bites at his jaw.

"No," he says, quietly and intimately. "I want to blue you all over with my hands and then get you on top of me to ride me so I can see you all marked up."

"Oh," George says on a soft exhale and when he pulls back to look at Josh again, his pupils are blown wide open. "Okay."

"Good," Josh says and then grabs for one of George's legs, pulling it out so he can kiss the inside of his ankle and place it on his shoulder, making George lean back onto his elbows for comfort. Josh does to George's calf what he did to George's arm, letting his fingers follow the natural line of George's muscles, trailing paths up to his knee. George watches with big eyes and doesn't say anything, but there's a flush creeping in on his cheeks and possibly he likes this more than either he or Josh had thought. Since George is already almost on his back, Josh sets the paint out of the way and lowers George's leg back onto the sheets, leaning forward over George to press him onto his back and kiss up his chest from his navel to his throat before swallowing the little breaths he puffs with his own mouth. George winds his legs around Josh's waist in return, rubbing some of the paint that's not dried yet off onto Josh's skin when he pulls him closer like that. Josh reaches down for where he can feel George fattening up against his belly and wraps his blue hand around him to give a little squeeze. George's breathe stutters and his hips buck up. He moans and presses Josh closer, but instead Josh pulls away, leaving George to push his blue cock up into the air.

"What-?" George asks, following Josh with his eyes as he leans over to the bedside table and pulls out a tub of lube and a condom.

"Probably best to get this while our hands are still somewhat clean," Josh says before he pulls George up to sit opposite him again and gets all ten of his fingertips blue.

"Talk about blue balls," George giggles as he looks down at his dick but otherwise seems content to watch as Josh grabs him around the ribcage and squeezes a bit, feeling the way the flexible bones underneath give way and leaving ten smudged fingerprints behind on his skin. Next are full hand prints on George's spindly shoulders and then around his waist when Josh pulls him closer and up over his lap. They're all sloppy and in varying intensity of colour, some of them still wet from too much paint while others already feel flaky and tight where they've dried up.

"Still good?" Josh asks and George only nods emphatically before wrapping his arms around Josh's neck and ducking down for another kiss. It’s entirely different from what they usually do, which, George supposes, was the whole point, but it coils tightly in his stomach with its intensity anyway. Josh's fingertips leave blue whorls all over the skin of George's back with their teasingly light touch until George starts shifting his hips back and forth, seeking out friction. Both of their breathing has gotten heavier and their faces are equally flushed when they pull out of the kiss.

"You're gonna have to get the condom on me," Josh says, indicating his hands. George's blush deepens, even as he feels silly for it. He’s touched Josh often enough, both with his hands and his mouth, but it feels different now, doing this for him, watching the latex cover Josh.

"Gotta get yourself ready too, Georgie," Josh says and pulls George closer. George makes some sort of aborted whiny sound into Josh's shoulder, but spreads his thighs wider either side of Josh's and then squeezes out some of the lube onto his hand, coating his fingers in it before reaching behind himself. Josh can't exactly see much from his vantage point, but he can see the curve of George's spine and the careless blue patterns left and right of it and he can see the careful movement of George's wrist and the less of his hand he can see the deeper his finger - fingers? - have to be inside George. It's its own kind of hot and he won't be blamed for mouthing along George's neck to find some sort of outlet, heart tripping up where it’s beating wildly in his chest.

"I can't," George says and shakes his head against Josh's shoulder. "Sorry, I have to-"

He straightens up and leans back, back arching so he doesn't have to stretch him arm as much, his free hand holding on to Josh's shoulder for balance. It's not like Josh minds this view either. There's plenty blue all over George's chest and his face is screwed up in concentration, his hips pressed close to Josh's belly, the wet of George's pre-cum cooling rapidly on his skin. Josh bites at his lips at all of the places he can see where he’s touched George. It’s like the additional visual makes it easier to remember the way his skin had glowed warmly underneath his hands and he wonders if George can feel his hands on him still in the marks he left behind.

“Fuck,” he says quietly to himself, eyes flickering over skin and paint. George's nipples stand out on his skin like dark pebbles and Josh leans in to tease one of them with the tip of his tongue and the gentlest pull of his teeth. George laughs breathlessly.

"Not fair," he complains, but he's smiling and his eyes are already a bit glassy behind rapidly fluttering eyelashes so Josh figures he doesn't really mind all that much. So instead of leaving him be, he wets his thumbs with paint and draws little hearts around Josh's nipples, colouring them in and rubbing over them.

"Maybe we should make you wear tassels some day," he suggests with a grin and George can't help but giggle even through the disbelieving grimace on his face.

"Maybe we shouldn’t," he says.

"Aw, but it’d be fun," Josh says, giddy with ideas and affection. "Sparkly, pink little things for Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's Day isn't for another half a year," George points out, hips twitching and breathe hitching when he accidentally bumps into his prostate.

"So?" Josh asks quietly and kisses the surprise right off George's face. George hums into it and then reaches for Josh's cock, giving him a few strokes to get him fully hard again. He pulls away to better concentrate on what he's doing when he's got Josh's dick lined up where he wants it and sinks down slowly. Josh leans his forehead against George's chest and moans a little with the _heat_ and _tight_ suddenly enveloping him.

"Feels good," George says and wiggles his hips experimentally, trying to gauge any discomfort.

"Yeah?" Josh asks, hands wet with paint again and clutching George's hips.

"Yeah," George says and slowly starts to grind his hips against Josh's. When he seems to have found a rhythm, Josh tries to match it with his own hips. It's still clumsy; they've not done this a lot yet, but George's hands rake up and down Josh's arms, grabbing at where his muscles are bulging most in his upper arms and Josh's hands are staining George's hips blue, the movement of their bodies jostling his hands ever so much and making the handprints he leaves even bigger on the sharp cut of George's hips.

"Didn't you say," George says and cuts himself off with a surprised shudder when Josh's cock bumps into his prostate. "Didn't you say you wanted to watch?"

"'m watching," Josh says, looking down between their bodies to the way their hips are moving together.

"No, lie... lie back," George says and pushes at Josh's shoulder. Josh doesn't need much pushing really and falls back into the sheets easily. With a shaky smile and something that could've been a wink but may have been blinking, George leans back and grabs Josh's thighs just above his knees to give himself some support, his chest and all the marks on it pushed out and on display.

"Oh, fuck," Josh says, screws his eyes shut for a moment and drags his fingers down a little over George's thighs, leaving blue streaks like scratch marks on his pale skin. The marks left on George's hips are huge and smudged and the way the skin shifts over George's hipbones with every of their thrusts is making Josh bite down on his lip, transfixed. His hips keep moving with George's mostly on instinct, his gaze roaming over all the places he's left blue paint to remember his touch by and it's only when he notices George's thighs start to shake under his fingers that he looks up at his flushed face.

"Josh, I need..." George says and pushes his hips out more dramatically, indicating his neglected cock and accidentally making Josh's brush against his prostate again. Josh tries to recreate the angle, and seems to manage on every other stroke or so, but lets go of one of George's thighs to reach for his bobbing cock anyway. It should probably be a little funny, how blue it is, covered in paint, but at the moment all Josh can think about is how hot it is that even fully erect he can fit most of it in one of his hands, only the head peaking out over the tunnel of his fingers.

"God, you're so small," Josh says, full of awe, and it's probably down to the sex that George laughs in response.

"Who taught you compliments?" he asks with a teasing smile, but he doesn't stop moving and there are little 'ah's falling from his lips.

"You're perfect," Josh says then, in almost the exact same tone as before, as if he were merely repeating himself and George can't help the smile that spreads his lips or the flush that comes back full force at it.

"Not so bad yourself," he says and then leans forward to put his hands on Josh's chest for better leverage, grinding harshly against him.

"George, fuck, so close," Josh says between stuttery breaths, the tell-tale heat coiling tightly in his stomach, making his toes curl and his mind buzz with anticipation. He can feel the muscles in George's thighs tense underneath his hand with every thrust, every bounce of his hips. The paint is starting to smudge where sweat gathers on their skin.

"Me too, me too," George says, writhing back onto Josh's cock and forwards into his hand, eyes closed and hair starting to stick to his forehead.

"God, you're gorgeous," Josh says, almost involuntarily, eyes wide to drink in the sight before him. He re-doubles his efforts to get George off, snapping his hips up in tight little thrusts and twisting his wrist where he's jacking him off. The moans that fall from George's lips climb in pitch until he quiets and holds his breath, his mouth working as if trying to form words, but no sounds escape him until his come has splashed out into Josh's hand and a little onto his chest and he lets himself sink forward against Josh's chest. He tucks a giggle into Josh’s collarbone before another particularly good brush of Josh’s cock still moving inside him draws a moan out of him. He always likes this, the buzz that’s almost a bit numbing in his fingertips and toes, but still sharp in his gut.

"Come on," he says, canting his hips back and urging Josh on. Josh grabs hold of George's hips again, come joining paint and sweat on his skin and rolls them over quickly. George lets his legs fall open wider and he pulls on Josh's hair teasingly while Josh thrusts, three, four, five more times into him and then slowly stills, riding out his orgasm with tiny hitches of his hips, his face pressed to the side of George's neck. For a while they both just breathe, until George feels something wet seep into the sheets by his knee and when he turns his head sees the tub of body paint has fallen over.

"Oh, fuck," he says and sets it upright, before pushing at Josh's shoulder. Josh makes a confused noise but looks over and then pulls out of George slightly-too-fast, making him yelp in surprise and a little at the sting of it before they're both scooping some of the paint back into the tub. Once the biggest mess is dealt with, Josh pops the lid back onto it and they turn to each other to take stock. The marks on George's skin are almost unrecognisable with how smudged they've become and Josh has blue stuck to his own skin where their bodies have rubbed together. George's blue cock is funny now, though not entirely as funny as the condom still on Josh. They share a short look before bursting into laughter.

"Shower?" Josh suggests, pulling the condom off and tying a knot to keep it from leaking.

"Definitely," George says and makes to climb off the bed. Josh reaches for him to halt him though, making George turn back with one foot on the floor, one still on the mattress and a question in his eyes.

"Thanks," Josh says, maybe a little too earnestly. George smiles at him and leans in for a kiss before slipping off the bed.

"My pleasure, I assure you."

**The End**


End file.
